


Tears of the Guilty

by Svartalfhild



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:21:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svartalfhild/pseuds/Svartalfhild
Summary: Fenris pays a visit to Inquisitor Lavellan after Hawke was lost in the Fade.





	Tears of the Guilty

The burden of leadership hung heavily on the Inquisitor's shoulders. She had not left Skyhold in days, but her body still ached as if she had spent the past week climbing around the canyons of the Western Approach. It seemed that sitting on a throne and dispensing justice was just as draining, and with good reason.

About a month had passed since the siege of Adamant Fortress, but Inquisitor Lavellan still felt the burning pit of guilt in her stomach every time she thought about Hawke's sacrifice. As she heaved herself up the stairs to her bed chamber, she attempted to cast such thoughts from her mind, but in this moment of quiet, it was impossible.

With a heavy sigh, Lavellan wandered out to her balcony, hoping the cold night air would numb her to the pain left by every impossible decision she had ever made. The chill bit into her as she leaned against the railing and looked out at the darkness. It hurt, but she embraced it. Maybe if she grew cold enough, she wouldn't be able to feel the loneliness her recent choices had given her, wouldn't care that Varric had barely spoken to her in a month.

A tingling sensation shot down her spine and her eyes narrowed. The wards around her room that would tell her of an intruder had just fired. She didn't turn around. If someone was here to kill her, she wasn't presently of a mind to stop them.

The flat of a large blade suddenly appeared to rest on her shoulder.

“You have one chance to tell me what you think gives you the _right_ to decide that Marian Hawke's life could be sacrificed,” a deep voice growled in her ear. Lavellan slowly turned to look at her assailant and saw an elf man with marks like vallaslin, except his glowed an eerie bluish white. What truly struck her, however, was the pain and anger in his large green eyes, which burned with more raw intensity than veilfire. There were dark circles around those eyes, which were themselves red at the edges. How long had it been since this man had properly slept?

“You must be Fenris. If you intend to kill me, I would recommend against it, not because I fear death, but because the people it would upset would not rest until they'd had their revenge and I don't want that for you; you've suffered enough,” Lavellen replied with a sorrowful calm. “But if it's the only thing that can give you peace, go ahead.”

This seemed to confuse Fenris, giving him pause as his verdant eyes met her own.

“Tell me why! Why did you choose Hawke?!” he barked, taking his sword off the Inquisitor's shoulder to grab her by her silk sash and pull her closer.

“I was asked to choose between a good man whose wife begged me to protect him and a good woman whose safety was entrusted to me by her best friend. It was a lose-lose scenario and the only reason I chose Hawke was that Warden Alistair is desperately needed as the only person I trust to save Orlais's Grey Wardens. That's not an excuse for my actions. I accept whatever judgement you wish to pass on me,” Lavellan explained before closing her eyes and waiting for a killing blow. Instead, Fenris gave a furious roar and threw her back into her room, leaving her sprawled across the floor at the foot of her bed. He strode in after her, coming to stand menacingly over her.

“Did you consider that you'd leave a child motherless with that decision?!”

“She...you...? I...I didn't know. I'm sorry.”

“My daughter isn't even old enough to talk and you forced her to learn what death is!” They were both in tears now and Lavellan's throat ached with a terrible tightness that made it impossible to speak again. Fenris brandished his sword at her once more, but his heart didn't seem half so in it this time. He seemed to be actively trying to stay angry and slowly failing. She found this odd. The Fenris she'd read about in _The Tale of the Champion_ wouldn't have hesitated to take her head off. Either Varric's depiction wasn't entirely accurate or being with Hawke for so long had softened the famously broody elf.

“I'm so sorry,” Lavellan choked out, still lying on the floor, her fallen tears leaving dark splotches on the stone.

“How can you live with yourself?” Fenris sneered. The answer was “I don't know”, but the Inquisitor didn't get the chance to try to say it.

“Step away from her, Fenris! Now!” Cullen ordered with his sword pressing into Fenris's back. The commander must have heard the shouting on his way up to her room and had his sword at the ready in time to surprise the intruder.

For a long, tense moment, Fenris didn't move, but then something caught his eye and Lavellan followed his gaze to the considerable collection of drawings hanging on the nearby wall.

“What are those?” he asked quietly, eyes wide. The Inquisitor opened her mouth to reply, but felt another wave of horrible guilt hit her, paralyzing her throat in pain once again. Thankfully, Cullen answered for her.

“Those are drawings sent to the Herald by children to whom she's brought hope and inspiration.” This must have triggered some kind of understanding in Fenris, because he finally lowered his sword.

“Your...your daughter. Where is she?” Lavellan managed after a long pause.

“Back in Kirkwall. With Merrill.”

“If...if either of you need anything, the Inquisition will provide. Money. Protection. Name it and it's yours.” With these words, she felt some modicum of strength return to her voice.

“I want my wife back,” Fenris responded bitterly. Lavellan closed her eyes and nodded. She had walked right into that.

“Cullen, could you go get Varric?” she asked, sitting herself up finally, and the commander gave her a deeply concerned look. “I'm sure things will be fine here.” With some notable reluctance, Cullen obeyed, sheathing his blade and crossing an arm over his chest in acknowledgement before disappearing back down the stairs.

A painful silence hung in the air as Fenris and Lavellan waited. The Inquisitor pulled herself up to sit on her bed and watched her intruder/guest put away his sword. They did not look at each other, but Fenris did eventually speak.

“Would you have chosen differently if you had known?”

“Maybe. Probably. I don't know. I was going to come away hating myself regardless.”

“Hawke often felt that way as the Champion. It seems a side effect of having authority dropped into your lap without asking.”

“Indeed.”

There was another awkward silence for a few moments after that in which Lavellan noted that Fenris's anger appeared to have been replaced with a tiredness and solemnity. Cullen soon returned with Varric and a handful of guards, who surrounded Fenris but didn't draw weapons. The commander came to stand close beside Lavellan and Varric shuffled up to Fenris with his heavy brow turned up in a look of deep sadness. He didn't put a hand on the former slave's arm like he did with most friends he tried to comfort, but he nonetheless commanded his attention.

“C'mon, Fenris. This isn't what Hawke would want.” This, more than anything, seemed to convince Fenris to let this all go. With a curt nod, he followed Varric out of the room, the guards trailing behind him.

“Did he hurt you?” Cullen asked softly, placing his hand on the side of Lavellan's face.

“No more than I deserve.”

“You didn't deserve it. You didn't do anything wrong.” The insistent tone of the commander's words was comforting, but not quite what she needed.

“I'd rather not discuss it at the moment.”

“Oh. I-”

“But I don't want to be alone either.” At this, Cullen quietly sat down beside her and said nothing more.

 


End file.
